


Globes and Maps

by worrisomeme



Series: Fall [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Master/Slave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-18 11:48:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8161108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/worrisomeme/pseuds/worrisomeme
Summary: When Sebastian wakes up he’s in a huge, soft bed. He’s in a pair of sweatpants and a v-neck that are so big they hang off of him and a simple black leather collar, thin and loose enough to actually be comfortable. His whole body aches and for a while he can’t seem to move it. Instead of trying he just lets his eyes adjust to the midday light streaming into the room. Where is he? His wrists are bruised where the restraints had been.Oh, yeah, that’s why he’s achy. He’s surprised he didn’t pop an arm out of the socket or something the way he was struggling. That still doesn’t explain where he is though, or why he’s in this bed. He hasn’t been allowed to sleep on a bed in… well… since he was a teenager probably. Since he was taken.The last thing he remembers is a needle being jabbed into the side of his neck. That was at his last owner’s place. Everything after that is dark and fuzzy and, god, how long has it been? He can’t remember. But this is definitely not that douchebag's place, so he must have a new owner already. He wonders if they warned him that he bites.





	

When Sebastian wakes up he’s in a huge, soft bed. He’s in a pair of sweatpants and a v-neck that are so big they hang off of him and a simple black leather collar, thin and loose enough to actually be comfortable. His whole body aches and for a while he can’t seem to move it. Instead of trying he just lets his eyes adjust to the midday light streaming into the room. Where is he? His wrists are bruised where the restraints had been.

Oh, yeah, that’s why he’s achy. He’s surprised he didn’t pop an arm out of the socket or something the way he was struggling. That still doesn’t explain where he is though, or why he’s in this bed. He hasn’t been allowed to sleep on a bed in… well… since he was a teenager probably. Since he was taken.

The last thing he remembers is a needle being jabbed into the side of his neck. That was at his last owner’s place. Everything after that is dark and fuzzy and, god, how long has it been? He can’t remember. But this is definitely not that douchebag's place, so he must have a new owner already. He wonders if they warned him that he bites. He grins just a little at the memory.

Seb manages to sit up and look around the room. Homey is the first word that comes to mind. Lived in, definitely. He hates when places look like no one lives in them. But it’s nice, modern, clean. Four doors in the room. The most obvious exit is a sliding glass door that leads to a large balcony. Most of that wall is floor to ceiling windows. Sebastian notes that he is much more high up than he’s happy with. No escape there. At least he’s still clearly in New York City.

One door is open and leads to a hallway. From the end of it he can hear dishes clinking in the kitchen and a TV on. English. But it’s too quiet for him to make out the words. There’s no footsteps or sign of anyone coming to rouse him. Maybe the door locks. He can worry about the other two once he knows he’s safe for a little while.

Quietly, quietly, he slinks out of the bed and tip-toes his way to the door. The carpet is soft under his feet. This wouldn’t even be bad to have to sleep on. He shuts the door slowly, silently. His heart is racing. This is taking way too long. His new master is going to come and shove the door open before he can get it locked and maybe if he’s lucky he’ll just get rid of him instead of beating him like some do. But the lock clicks into place finally and he lets out a breath he doesn’t know he’s holding.

Okay, on to the other two doors. The first is a walk-in closet. Nothing particularly special except maybe the sheer amount of clothes that somehow only take up a little over half the space. The second is a bathroom that Sebastian swears is twice the size of the apartment he grew up in. Okay, maybe not that big, but it feels like it. It’s definitely bigger than the bedroom he grew up in, at least.

There’s an open shower and a bathtub big enough to fit two people in separate corners of the room. There’s vases filled with colorful spheres on shelves by the tub, along with various liquids that he dares to dream could be for bubble baths. It all smells heavenly. There are a few hygiene and styling products littering the counter next to the sink. He notices a new toothbrush in the cup with what must be his owner’s.

He’s studying everything carefully when he’s shaken out of his head by the doorknob jiggling in the bedroom. He peers out of the doorway before making his way back into the room. There’s a soft chuckle from the other side of the door and then it jiggles again. Sebastian’s perched himself on the edge of the bed.

“I see you’re awake,” says the voice, low and sweet. “Did you lock the door? I mean, they told me you were feisty but – “

“Pleacă!” Sebastian shouts. _Go away!_ His heart is racing, shoulders tense, fists balled in his lap. He’s sure his new master has a key to his own bedroom. How long does he have before he lets himself in?

“I know you both understand and speak English,” his owner starts, his tone amused, “but I don’t speak Romanian. That’s where you’re from, right? I know sometimes people who don’t care get countries wrong.”

Sebastian scrunches up his face at the rambling of his new master. “Du te dracul!” he shouts, cutting him off. _Go to hell!_

He just chuckles again. “Will you at least tell me your name?” he asks. Suddenly his voice grows somber. “All they gave me was your number.”

“Mai bine mor!” _I’d rather die!_

There’s a sad, huffed out laugh then the sound of something being set on the ground in front of the door.

“I made lunch,” he says. “I’m leaving yours here for you. I’m going to go eat in the living room.” Sebastian can hear the shift in the wood and the tone of his voice as the other man leans against the door. “Please eat something. It’s not a trap, I promise. You can have all the space you need.” Then he sighs and Seb can hear his footsteps retreating down the hall.

He doesn’t trust him for one second. He doesn’t open the door, doesn’t get the food. He doesn’t remember the last time he ate, but he doesn’t really feel hungry anymore anyway, so it must have been a while. He lays on the floor at the foot of the bed and stares at the ceiling, trying to not hear or think at all.

Hours must pass because before he knows it the sun is setting and he can hear the plate being removed. Another takes its place. Something else gets set down, too, then his new master says, “I wish you would have eaten something. I know they didn’t feed you when they kept you… locked up.” His voice breaks a little. “Anyway, I brought you some dinner. I left you alone with lunch, I’ll do the same with dinner. Please eat this time.”

Sebastian sits up and stares at the door, pulls his knees to his chest. His toes wiggle anxiously, nervous energy trying to burn itself off.

“Are you going to tell me your name yet?” his new master asks. A couple of silent minutes tick past before he huffs out a laugh. “I liked it better when you were yelling at me,” he says, pauses, then adds, “My name’s Chris.” Seb hears his footsteps fading down the hallway.

He still doesn’t eat.

 

*

 

Sebastian wakes up the next day on the floor. They spend the day the same as the one before. Chris brings him plates of food that he doesn’t eat. He doesn’t unlock the door even for one second, but Chris doesn’t try the handle anymore. He’s started coming back between meals, just sitting outside the door and talking to him. He tells him some of his favorite things and talks to him about his job. He’s a musician, a composer. Depending on how exhausted and hungry and woozy he feels he either refuses to answer at all or shouts at him in Romanian.

He’s starving and it’s making him weak and making his head hurt. His heart is beating hard, aching, and his breathing has become labored, but he purses his lips and ignores it. He’s gone longer, and he can drink from the sink in the bathroom. He’ll be fine.

But by the time Chris brings him lunch on the third day he’s not so sure anymore. He is, however, fairly certain he’s been hallucinating on and off.  Is it even the third day? He can’t remember. He must have been locked up for longer than he’d guessed before Chris had bought him. He still can’t remember any of that, either. All he knows is he has to eat. It maybe or may not be a trap, but it’s a chance he’s going to have to take.

When the plate is set down and Chris’ footsteps are down the hall he unlocks the door as silently as possible. He opens the door quietly, just enough to grab the plate and cup, then he presses his shoulder into it and it slams shut. He winces at the sound and nearly drops the plate locking the door again, then huddles into the far corner of the room.

He waits long, long moments before he moves again. Only when he’s certain Chris isn’t coming does he address his plate. He doesn’t think he’s ever eaten a sandwich that fast before in his life. There’s juice in the cup and he’s grateful for the taste of it on his tongue and the sugar. When both are long gone he does feel better. At least the room has stopped spinning.

Sebastian lets out a sigh. He’s been here for three days and hasn’t showered yet. He guesses that’s his next step toward being a person again. As close as a slave ever gets, anyway. So quickly and quietly he sets the empty plate and cup outside the door before locking it again, much more gracefully this time. Again, he waits until he’s sure Chris is still elsewhere in the apartment before doing anything.

Once he’s sure he’s still safe he strips off the dirty clothes and tosses them in a hamper he’d noticed in the closet. He steps into the shower and lets out a sigh at the feel of the warm water on his skin. Time stops as he lathers the shampoo into his hair, only now noticing how long it’s getting. Will Chris have him keep it long or cut it short? He’s surprised the handlers didn’t cut it.

 _This must be what Chris smells like_ , he thinks as he washes his body.

Stop. He can’t be thinking like this. Like Chris is anything but another foe to be vanquished.

But he’s fed and warm and clean and sleepy so his self-control is slipping. Sensation is winning out over his fear. He lets his mind wander, day-dream.

He dries off quickly and finds a new pair of sweatpants and a new shirt. They’re just as baggy as the first pair and he wonders if Chris is big, or just likes his clothes that way. He hesitates a moment at the collar. Should he put it back on? Is that admitting defeat? But Chris has been nice to him, so far anyway. He bites his lip and huffs out a breath before slipping the collar around his throat. He only flinches a little.

He doesn’t even make it under the covers of that glorious bed before he’s asleep.

 

*

 

When he wakes up this time he wonders how long it’s been. Minutes? Hours? It was about noon when he fell asleep and it’s seven now. AM or PM? Shit.

But then he registers the smell of coffee. Morning then. Suddenly it dawns on him that the smell is coming from inside the room. His nerves thrum to life, his entire body tenses. It’s only after minutes pass without a sound that he dares sit up, look around. He’s alone still, but the bedroom door is unlocked now. On the night stand there’s a steaming cup of coffee and a little bowl with some sugar, along with a plate of food.

How long has it been since he’s had coffee? Oh god. He dumps all the sugar in his cup hastily and barely bothers stirring before he’s sucking it down. Oh god, he missed coffee. He picks at the food between gulps and almost forgets that the door is still unlocked.

Almost.

A now-familiar voice brings the thought right back up to the forefront of his mind.

“Morning beautiful,” it says from outside the door.

Sebastian’s a little confused. He let himself into the room to bring him the food but then just left again? Was he waiting out there for him to wake up? Why? Just to talk to him?

“Is it okay if I come in?” Chris asks.

He’s asking permission? More mysteries from this new master. More every day.

“If you don’t say something, I’m going to take that as a yes. Mostly because we’re on day four of this and I really need to shower and change, but also because I know by now that if you really had a problem with it you’d be shouting things at me I don’t understand.” Chris laughs at the thought, not unkindly.

He blushes and a little twinge of guilt hits him. This _is_ his room, after all. All his clothes are in here. Doesn’t he have a spare bathroom? Maybe it doesn’t have a shower in it. Well, all his stuff is in this one anyway.

He’s pulled from his mental tangent when the door opens and in steps his new master. He’s tall and strong (that answers that question) and handsome. Kind, stunning blue eyes and an easy smile. Sebastian thinks he can’t be much older than himself. No way. He finds himself a little entranced, actually, and he blushes again at that. He blames it on the half-sleep state he’s not actually still in.

The glint in Chris’ eye says he noticed, but he doesn’t say anything about it. Sebastian flushes deeper and makes a move to scramble off the bed. His place is on the floor. But Chris just heads for the bathroom, waving a hand at him.

“Don’t get up on my account,” he says like he’s talking to an old friend. He stops in the doorway and glances over his shoulder at Seb. “But, if you want, there is more coffee in the kitchen. All the way at the end of the hall. You can’t miss it.” And with that he disappears into the bathroom, though he doesn’t bother to close the door behind him.

Sebastian hears the water start and the spell is broken. Mostly. He climbs out of the bed, cup still clutched in his hand, and heads down the hall quickly. He wants to explore the apartment, but that can wait. Right now, caffeine.

The end of the hall opens up into an impressive living room on the right with a giant TV and a couch as luxurious as everything else in the house. On the left is the kitchen, open and spacious. He makes quick work of filling his cup and dumping more sugar in it, then rushes back to the bedroom. After three days I there it’s making him a little nervous being out of it.

He hesitates at the side of the bed. It’s so soft and warm and welcoming, but it also feels a little wrong. Like he’s being naughty by being in it. But Chris _had_ told him to stay in bed if he wanted. He woke up in it, so Chris must have put him there in the first place, right? Right. That settles it. He crawls into the middle of the bed and leans against the headboard as he sips from his cup.

He doesn’t even notice the water has turned off until Chris emerges from the bathroom in nothing but a towel. Sebastian nearly chokes on his coffee. He’s clean shaven now and Seb thinks he wouldn’t mind being pinned down by those muscles. He doesn’t even scold himself for the thought this time. Damn.

Chris notices him staring and grins, clearly pleased with himself. Sebastian blushes and looks away. _Now_ he’s scolding himself, just a little bit. Chris disappears into the closet and Sebastian climbs out of the bed. He downs the last of his coffee and sets the cup on the nightstand before making his way to the balcony. It’s a nice view and it gets him out of the room. Er… kinda.

He hadn’t realized how much he’d been missing the fresh air until now. He takes a couple deep breaths and leans against the railing, looking down at the people wandering about below. He lets his mind wander, thinking about where they’re going and what their lives are like. It’s a nice, peaceful moment.

Until Chris joins him, settles right next to him on the railing. Sebastian bristles a little, but Chris stays put. Seb does note, though, that he doesn’t actually touch him, doesn’t grab him around the waist like some would have. He has been a very strange master so far.

“So,” Chris asks after a moment, turning to look at him. “Are you going to tell me your name yet?”

He hesitates, eyeing him warily, then he shifts his gaze back to the city. He watches lights flick on in buildings and cars winding their way through the city streets. Finally, just barely above a whisper, he says, “Sebastian.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys liked it! Definitely more to come from this verse.
> 
> As always, comments, kudos, etc are my lifeblood! 
> 
> Let's be friends! Find me (and feel free to suggest scenarios etc you'd like to see) on [[tumblr](http://worrisomeme.tumblr.com)]!


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